


Fifteen Minutes

by arturas



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Death, F/M, Family, Oneshot, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26406502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arturas/pseuds/arturas
Summary: Time never passes as quickly as it should. Post-canon Peachshipping, oneshot, angst, and not a lot else.
Relationships: Mazaki Anzu | Tea Gardner/Mutou Yuugi
Kudos: 3





	Fifteen Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> C/N: death, pain and general unhappiness. T for implications rather than anything explicit.

_Love is watching someone die_

_~ “What Sarah Said”, © Death Cab for Cutie_

* * *

She stares numbly at the clean white doors as they swing shut. Funny, almost, how far divorced from reality it all feels. She could’ve sworn that either of their voyages into virtual reality (to say nothing of the Memory World) would’ve felt less real than this – but apparently that isn’t the case. She and her friends have faced evils both ancient and modern; they’ve saved the world more than once and each other more times than they can remember. They’ve been mind-controlled, body-snatched, sent to virtual worlds and back in time. They know what to say for missing grandparents, for stolen souls, for lost and presumed-dead friends – they know exactly what to say in all the situations that normal people never have to even contemplate, never mind live through.

Anzu stares at the clean white doors and can’t decide if she’s angry or relieved that none of them knew what to say for this.

None of them are here now, of course. That was a step too far even for those who were with them at the (almost) end of the world. It’s just her and Yugi. Just like it was at the start of things – a boy and a girl, facing off against the world. Except these days they’ve only been facing off against doctor’s prognoses instead of psychopathic megalomaniacs and as it turns out, friendship isn’t nearly as useful a weapon against hard science. Funny how that works. She thought nothing could be more terrifying than the soul-stealing Orichalcos or the world-ending Zorc Necrophades but words like _genetic defect_ and _terminal_ somehow managed to make her heart stop just as effectively. Without the restart provided by charismatic alter-egos to boot.

She briefly catches herself wondering if Atemu would know what to do if he were here, then if his presence would make her feel better at all. Her stomach squirms with guilt and she finally looks away from the doors.

‘He wouldn’t know, either,’ Yugi murmurs.

God, sometimes she hates how well her husband knows her. ‘I didn’t say anything.’

‘You’ve never needed to.’ He pulls her against his chest and she can feel the hitch in his breath as he rubs gentle circles on her back. Good old Yugi. Any other man would’ve hidden his emotion but her Yugi is not just any man; he’s _her_ man. He’s Yugi. He’s not too proud to let her see that he’s hurting, too, and to remind her that she’s never alone while he’s there.

‘We’ll get through this,’ he murmurs into her hair.

‘We shouldn’t have to,’ she whispers back.

Yugi doesn’t have an answer for that. Nobody does.

Funny, really, how she used to think she was the strong one. She was the one who rallied them when they were at their lowest, the one who bullied and cajoled and supported and got them through everything together. She’d always viewed herself as the one that kept them going – her, the cheerleader, the supporting character at best. Yet here she is: broken, devastated, and wishing that time itself would stop just for a single second more.

It’s not fair. It was _never_ fair. Medical diagnoses can’t be rationalised with, can’t be defeated in a card game, can’t be convinced to give up their evil ways and repent. There was nothing she nor any of them could have done more than they already had. Yet she can’t quite convince herself otherwise. Maybe if she’d done _this_ , or maybe if they’d done _that_ –

Yugi chokes down a sob of his own and she’s harshly reminded she’s not entirely alone.

Her hand snakes up his arm, clutching at her sole remaining lifeline to reality. They’re older now; more mature now; more realistic now. It doesn’t make any difference. If anything, it makes it worse. Back then they’d had the confident and the arrogance to _know_ that they could take anything the world threw at them and come out on top. Now…

Someone’s phone chimes. It’s not hers; she left hers on the charger at home (she hasn’t looked at it for days now; it’s too harsh a reminder of everything that’s happened). Yugi’s, maybe? She didn’t think he had his either but evidently –

‘It’s just Jou.’ His voice is as shaky as her own stuttered breaths. ‘Asking whether we want katsu or ramen for dinner.’

Anzu buries her face in his chest. She can’t even _think_ about food right now; it’s like something from another lifetime altogether. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ she eventually whispers. Anything will be fine. She doesn’t even know what time it is now or even if she’s already eaten today – dinner might as well be in a hundred years for all she cares. ‘Whatever you feel like.’

Yugi chokes out something that might have once been a laugh. ‘Nothing more than you do, I suspect.’

She can’t bring herself to reply. It feels like time has stopped altogether; like somehow waiting-rooms exist on an alternate plane of reality where nothing exists outside the laminated chairs and the out-of-date magazines and pointless, lifeless flowers captured on canvas. She doesn’t remember ever feeling hungry and she can’t bring herself to imagine ever feeling hungry again. Nothing matters but the right here, right now, right nothing.

She listens silently as Yugi types out some kind of reply. Katsuya is a good friend no doubt but like the others, he never knew what to say to this. Never knew how to handle it. Asking what they want to eat is as close to he’ll get as asking how they are and she knows that when they finally get home there’ll at least be a hearty meal waiting for them, but it all still feels so… hollow. Pointless. Why are they bothering to eat anymore? Why did they _ever_ bother to eat?

Anzu breathes in deeply. All she can smell is Yugi; his cologne (today’s the first time he’s shaved in nearly a month), his deodorant (both she and he hadn’t showered in nearly a week), his scent (she’s known it since they were teenagers, never mind dating, never mind married). It’s the first time in months – years – _forever_ that it isn’t enough to convince her everything will be okay. It feels like nothing will ever be okay again. It’s a stupid thought – things _will_ be okay again; they always are, eventually. Today’s just the first time she can’t really, truly, deep-down-cross-her-heart believe it.

She thinks back to the very first time she was ever taken to a crematorium, and how a fresh-faced secretary had told them without the faintest hint of emotion that it took an hour and a half for an adult, forty-five minutes for a child, and fifteen minutes for a stillborn. Back then she’d been a raging dynamo, brash and full of energy; her grandfather was little more than a name to her. The ninety minutes that she’d spent swinging her legs beside her wailing mother was, she’d thought, the slowest time had ever gone.

A little less than fifteen minutes later, as an orderly murmurs emotionless platitudes while handing them a tiny white box, a thousand lifetimes have passed by for Anzu.

None of them will ever come to be.


End file.
